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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26553796">if she does not love you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyaveragewhiteshark/pseuds/prettyaveragewhiteshark'>prettyaveragewhiteshark</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Avatar: Legend of Korra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Betrayal, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:40:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,574</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26553796</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyaveragewhiteshark/pseuds/prettyaveragewhiteshark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You are a woman from Lin Beifong's past, returned to Republic City to repay a debt to an un-catchable crime lord. You have one final debt to repay before you can buy your freedom, but when it's revealed that your target is Lin herself, will you be able to follow through?</p><p>A/N: Rated M for language, possible violence, and future sex scenes</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lin Beifong/OC, Lin Beifong/Original Character, Lin Beifong/Original Female Character(s), Lin Beifong/Reader, Lin x OC, Lin/Oc, Lin/Reader, lin beifong x reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It has been thirty years since you’ve been to Republic City. Things have changed. The skyline is taller, more crowded with unfamiliar buildings. The harbor is busier, ships making their way in to shore and out to sea in droves. The streets buzz with life, with the sound of engines and wheels, merchants selling their wares, pedestrians bustling this way and that. You’ve missed it. Some of your best days were spent here. The memories rush in as you make your way down roads both strange and familiar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes, some of your best days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And some of your worst, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that thought, your stomach twists. You ignore the feeling, hefting your bag higher on your shoulder, double checking the address scrawled on the paper in your hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The Dancing Dragon Hotel</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>733 8th Avenue, Republic City</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You stop at the nearest street corner, glancing up to check how many blocks you have left to go. The street sign is for 5th Avenue. Not too far now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In your peripheral vision, you catch sight of a tall, familiar figure. You look over, focusing on the carved relief of Police Chief Toph Beifong. She towers over the street, hands clasped behind her back, her stone face stoic. She stands framed in the columns of the police station. The sight of her, of the station building, of those tall chrome doors, makes your heart stutter. This was the last building you ever walked out of before leaving this city behind. The memory of that day is still seared across the back of your mind and it flares now, the pain and fury resurfacing like a leviathan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, your better judgement falters. You could just walk through those doors, find her…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And do what? After all this time, after what happened the last time you saw her, what could you say? What would you do?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You shake the thoughts from your head. This isn’t why you’re here. Seeing her would only distract from the mission. One last mission, one final debt to repay, and then you’ll be free. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Free.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The word echoes in your head like the tone of a bell as you continue toward the hotel. You can hardly fathom it. What will it be like, to travel from place to place without feeling like you’re being watched? Without having to sleep with your crossbow loaded beneath your pillow? Without losing out on your hard-earned money every time you bring in a new bounty?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You hardly dare to imagine it. It’s too sweet, too precious, too fragile a thought to entertain for too long. Overthink, and it could shatter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You arrive at the hotel. It’s a massive structure, impossible to miss. Intricate carvings of dragons adorn the golden entryway. The symbolism seems entirely too pointed to be a coincidence. You flex your right hand without meaning to, where the tail of your own dancing dragon peeks out from the cuff of your shirtsleeve. Not for the first time since arriving in Republic City, your stomach twists.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hotel bellboy escorts you inside, past the receptionist who bows to you deeply, and onto the lift where he punches the button for the top floor suite. Of course. No expense spared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lift grinds to a halt at the top floor and you step out, hitching your bag a little higher on your back. Before a set of gilded red and gold double doors, a man and a woman stand waiting for you. They both cut massive figures in their well-tailored black suits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Afternoon,” you say cooly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Li is waiting,” the woman replies.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You know the drill. You hand the man your bag first, then shrug off your overcoat, tossing it carelessly into his arms. His expression darkens, and you give him a thin smile - he can’t do anything to you, and you both know it. You unholster your crossbow then, pulling it from the leather holster that hangs off your left side. The woman eyes the weapon with poorly-masked admiration. You can’t help but to make a show of disarming the bow, deftly unloading the bolt, slowly riding the string forward until the catching mechanism releases with a click, slipping the bolt back into the quiver attached to the foregrip, and folding the limbs of the bow into the barrel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You keep hold of it in your left hand and deftly untie the tethers of the katana scabbard with your right, catching it as it falls free. You hold both weapons out to the woman. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take care of these for me, will you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She takes them carefully, smiling as she meets your eyes, then nods to the man. He dumps your bag and coat unceremoniously onto the floor and gives you a rough pat down. Once satisfied that you have been thoroughly disarmed, he turns and pushes through the double doors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You follow him into a lavish suite, decorated in the same red and gold color scheme. There are a few men standing, all dressed in the same nondescript black suits, but it’s the figure at the center of the room, seated in a wingback chair, with legs crossed and hands folded neatly atop his knees, who draws your attention. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His short black hair is slicked back neatly, and he wears a dark green jacket buttoned up to the neck. His attire is missing the pomp and flair that most criminal ring leaders prefer to adorn themselves with. For all intents and purposes, he looks like an accountant or hotel manager. He’s younger than you by a good ten years, but there’s a coldness in his gray eyes that ages him, a coldness even the broad smile on his face can’t mask. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss Ishida,” he says, his voice smooth as glass. “Thank you so much for joining me. Please, sit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please, Teng. No need for formality,” you say, lowering yourself onto the couch across from him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raises his eyebrows and a quick chill rushes down your spine. You chastise yourself silently - there’s a time and place for being cavalier, but this is neither of those. But he only nods after a moment, chuckling lightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sotaro,” he amends, and suddenly you regret insisting. Your name sounds perverse on his lips. “Tea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please,” you nod. An orderly brings you a cup which you take gratefully, blowing the steam away from the clear brown surface. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I trust your journey was pleasant?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm,” you say around a mouthful of liquid. Then, swallowing, “Almost too much so. It left me a little bored.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” he laughs. “I’m happy to provide a remedy for that. I imagine you’re ready for your final job, yes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You lift your teacup to him. “Couldn’t be more ready.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m very happy to hear that.” He steeples his fingers. “I understand that you were once acquainted with Police Chief Lin Beifong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The name stops you cold. You carefully tip the cup to your lips, hoping it conceals your expression adequately. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lin.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” you say finally. “We were friends once, many years ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods. “Good. You see, she owes me a debt. I’ve tried to call on her for it, but she refuses to respond. And, of course, since she is Police Chief, she’s a hard woman to get alone. Which is where you come in. Lin is on a mission to hunt me down, no doubt to throw me in chains and avoid her own debt, but I’ve managed to keep myself from her grasp, and she’s running out of ideas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s ice in your gut, but his eyes are trained on you carefully, so you stretch your free arm across the back of the couch, propping your ankle up on your knee, resting your teacup on your thigh, casual as you please. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So,” you say, “you want me to earn her trust, lead her on a wild goose chase after you, and then walk her right into your waiting arms.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiles. “Precisely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You lean forward, avoiding his gaze, placing your cup on the delicately carved coffee table between the two of you. Lean back, slow inhale, one arm up on the back of the couch, meet his cold eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And once I do that my debt is paid?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One hundred percent free and clear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Freedom.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>You smile. You smile even though Lin’s face appears before your eyes, even though it brings with it a wave of emotion strong enough to drown you. You smile into this man’s cruel face. You think of your freedom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Consider it done.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lin Beifong is in her office this afternoon, her palms planted on her desk as she pores over the documents spread before her, the open file folders splayed with photos and police reports like a hand of cards. This is all information she has seen before. She’s practically memorized it at this point, but she can’t keep herself from looking again, searching for something she may have missed, the link that will connect the dots and give her something to go on. </p><p>Teng Li is a ghost. The only information she’s managed to glean about the man is that, first of all, he is in fact a man, and second, that his name is Teng Li. And that is all. No knowledge of what he looks like, nor where he’s come from, no similarities in the method in which he has committed his crimes. In fact, Lin is convinced that he isn’t even the one committing them. He’s kept his hands clean, hiring random mercenaries to do the criminal dirty work. Lin suspects that he knows the criminal underworld intimately, because he knows to hire people who can get in and get out without a trace. </p><p>Even his end game seems nebulous. Lin would expect a crime lord to commit murders, robberies, or fraud of some kind, something to increase his wealth like any self-respecting mob boss. But no, it seems that would be too simple a motive. Lin has managed to link several cases of property destruction to Li - collapsed subway tunnels, merchant ships sunk in the harbor, and just last week a bomb that blew the struts out from under Kyoshi Bridge. No casualties, thank the Spirits - they’d gotten a mysteriously untraceable anonymous tip that led to them evacuating the bridge before the explosion - but the increased violence of the acts worry Lin.</p><p>What does he have planned next? What does he want? Their well of leads has run dry. She’s backed into a corner and no closer to finding him than when they’d first started. Frustration boils inside her chest and she slams her fist into her desk, sending a few of the papers fluttering to the ground. She’s supposed to be Republic City’s protector, but so far all she’s done is find dead ends and come up with more questions than answers. </p><p>She pushes away from the desk, crossing to the tall windows that line one wall of the office. Outside, the city bustles by. Out of sight but ever present, she knows the statue of her mother stands like a goliath of justice, a beacon of hope for the city, the founder of the Beifong legacy. It only makes the shame burn hotter. </p><p>Lin’s eyes drift across the street, stopping on a woman standing still on the corner of 5th and Main. There’s something familiar about the woman's hair, her stance. She’s too far away to make out her face clearly, but Lin’s heart jumps into overdrive and she leans forward without meaning to, her hand pressing against the window frame. Before she can get a better look, a crowd of people pass in front of the woman and by the time they clear, she’s gone.</p><p>Lin’s mind is racing. </p><p>Could it have been her? Could Taro have returned to Republic City after all this time?</p><p><em> No, </em> Lin tells herself. <em> No, she said she’d never come back </em>. </p><p>The memory floods in all at once- Taro’s tear-filled eyes, the shock and betrayal etched in painful relief across her features. Lin had gone after her, desperate to stop her from leaving. She’d grabbed her arm. </p><p>
  <em> “Taro, please.” </em>
</p><p>Taro had turned, and the hurt was gone, replaced by rage and trembling fury. Her voice was pure cold hatred as she spoke a promise she’d kept for thirty years. </p><p><em> “You’ll never see me again.” </em> Then she was gone.</p><p>Lin shakes the memory from her head before they can run away with her. It was a long time ago, it may as well have been another lifetime completely. The woman on the street was just a look-alike, come to haunt Lin with visions of the past right when she needed it the least. </p><p>Lin feels restless suddenly, like she has fire in her veins and nowhere for it to go. She leaves her office, passing by her secretary in the hall.</p><p>“Leave any messages on my desk. I’ll be in the gym for the next hour.”</p><p>“Yes, chief,” the woman says, but Lin is already gone. </p><p>It feels good to work up a sweat. Her heart pounds in her ears and her breathing comes heavy as she shadow boxes, ducking and weaving around invisible opponents, throwing jabs and crosses at calculated intervals. Her fists pummel empty air, darting out and back like a striking snake, jarring sharp breaths from between her lips in staccato patterns. She wheels, angling her body toward a punching bag hanging nearby. She lands a punch on it, then another, and another. </p><p>Cross, jab, cross. </p><p>Cross, cross, jab. </p><p>Jab, jab, cross. </p><p>She ducks an imaginary swing, wheeling into a reverse roundhouse, her foot hitting the bag so hard she feels the reverberations through her whole body. The bag chain creaks from the impact and she turns again, landing a hard heel kick dead center. Then she pivots, dodges the swing of the bag, and darts in for another series of punches. </p><p>The exercise is easy. It’s good release. She pictures the faceless Teng Li in the bag’s place as she lands hit after hit, knees, elbows, kicks. Her heart is pounding hard, blood beating against her eardrums. Suddenly her opponent isn’t faceless anymore. Taro stands there and she’s angry. She fights back. Lin ducks her punch, dancing back from a kick, then lunges back in, hits her hard in the stomach, knocking the wind from her. Lin ducks, sweeps the leg. Taro falls. </p><p>Then Lin is remembering again. Another time she stood before Taro with her heart racing, but this time Taro wasn’t angry. This time she leaned in closely, so closely Lin could smell the musk of her skin. Her lips grazed Lin’s cheek. Her voice drifted into her ear, sounding soft and heavy all at once. </p><p>
  <em> Lin. </em>
</p><p>“Lin? Hey, Chief!”</p><p>Lin snaps to, recognizing the voice as the memories scatter like leaves on the wind. She turns, panting, to see Korra standing behind her, Asami Sato by her side. </p><p>“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Korra said, her grin crooked. “We just got back to the city and wanted to come say hello.”</p><p>Lin is surprised to see them there, but she doesn’t show it. She reaches for a towel. “I didn’t expect to see you two back so soon,” she says, her eyes finding Korra and Asami’s linked hands as she dabs sweat from her neck.</p><p>“Well,” Korra says, glancing at Asami with a strange sheepish smile that Lin doesn’t care to think too hard about. “We would have liked to extend our trip, but we figured that maybe the Avatar shouldn’t take too much time off if she could help it.”</p><p>“And by that she means that I had to convince her to come back before we ended up staying in the Spirit World for months,” Asami says, leaning into Korra’s shoulder.</p><p>Korra looks over at Asami with a soft smile and for a moment they gaze warmly at each other, a blush touching their cheeks. Lin watches them and there’s a sudden twist in her chest, an ache she can’t name. She ignores it.</p><p>“Well,” she says, turning away, beginning to unwind the wrappings on her hands. “Welcome back. Republic City will be glad to know the Avatar has returned.”</p><p>Korra’s voice grows more serious. “Speaking of Republic City - that’s another reason I’m here. Mako gave me the rundown on Teng Li.”</p><p>Lin grunts. “He’s been a slippery bastard. Every lead has evaporated. It’s all dead ends.”</p><p>“I have some catching up to do with the physical world, and the Earth Nation might need some looking after now that the monarchy has dissolved, but if there’s anything I can do to help you catch this guy, I will.”</p><p>Lin knows that there isn’t much even the Avatar can do to help, but the offer still brings a bit of comfort. Lin would never say it out loud, but after the strange emptiness left by Korra’s three-year absence, even a short stint in the Spirit World leaves the world feeling a little too out of balance. It really is good to have Korra back in the land of the living. </p><p>“I appreciate that, kid,” Lin says. “The second I have a new lead, I’ll let you know.”</p><hr/><p>Lin doesn’t go home that night, so she’s at the station when she hears the phone ring in the other room. An officer answers it, and a few moments later they’re pounding on Lin’s door and swinging it open. </p><p>“Chief, we just got a tip that a couple of guys are rigging explosives in the train service tunnel on First and Maple. Could be linked to Li.”</p><p>“Get three patrol cars down there now.”</p><p>“Already on it, ma’am.”</p><p>“No sirens. I don’t want them to know we’re coming.”</p><p>Lin considers staying at the station, waiting for an update in the situation room. As the Chief of Police, she’s never part of the response team when it comes to emergency calls, but she dismisses the thought almost as soon as it appears. She won’t sit on her hands when there could be a lead right under her nose. </p><p>She takes a squad bike, roaring through the quiet streets like a wolfbat, urging it on far faster than the speed limits she helped set would ordinarily allow. She arrives to find two officers at the entrance of the service tunnel, cordoning off the area. They salute as she approaches and she waves them off, stepping down into the tunnel. It’s a dimly lit area, most light coming from the officer’s personal lamps. They’ve formed a loose circle around a pair of bodies - two men, bound back to back and sitting slumped on the concrete. </p><p>“What’ve we got?”</p><p>“Hard to say, Chief,” an officer responds. “They were like this when we got here.”</p><p>As she draws closer, she can see the projectiles protruding from men’s bodies at various, painful-looking angles. Long, thin, lightly feathered darts. Crossbow bolts. </p><p>“Dead?”</p><p>“Just unconscious.”</p><p>Lin crouches beside the men, analyzing them closely. Their faces hold no interest - she doesn’t recognize either of them. It’s the pattern of the bolts that catches her attention. None of them are in fatal locations, but Lin gets the sense that this isn’t because the attacker was a poor shot. Just the opposite, in fact. </p><p>After Amon’s little charade, Lin had taken a few chi blocking classes to better understand how to protect herself from those kinds of attacks if the need ever arose. Looking at these bolts, she recognizes the location of each one as one of the key chi centers - inner shoulder, lower bicep, hipbone, outer thigh. The shooter hadn’t been trying to kill them - these men were benders, and the shooter had disarmed them, expertly shutting off their bending before moving in to knock them unconscious.</p><p>The information turns over slowly in Lin’s mind, unfolding piece by piece, assembling itself into an image, a message, an understanding the likes of which she hasn’t encountered since she first heard the name Teng Li. </p><p>The chi blocking. The crackshot aim. The crossbow bolts. Lin’s pulse spikes not for the first time today as a realization looms, beckoning her to see it clearly. </p><p>
  <em> Oh, spirits. </em>
</p><p>The final piece clicks into place as an officer places a slip of paper in her hand. </p><p>“We found this, too,” he says, and nods towards one of the unconscious men. “It was between this one’s teeth.”</p><p>Lin unfolds it carefully, gingerly, like someone diffusing a bomb, keeping her face expressionless as the words reveal themselves, scrawled in that same familiar untidy handwriting that adorns a stack of old letters tucked away somewhere in Lin’s attic. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hi, Lin. I’m back in town.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Let’s get drinks. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> xx Taro </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Lin feels the fringes of a blackout roll behind her eyes. She folds the paper back up carefully, tucking it away in the chest pocket of her coat. </p><p>“Get these two to the station. Have them ready for questioning in the morning. Sweep the tunnels for explosives, and put a hold on all subway travel until we can confirm an all-clear.”</p><p>“Yes, ma’am.”</p><p>She returns their salute and leaves the tunnel, climbing onto the squad bike and kicking it into gear. The roar of the engine doesn’t drown out the roar in her ears. The wind doesn’t whip away the stunning, furious disbelief. There was no address written, but Lin knows exactly where she’s going. The empty streets blur into shadow around her. The note burns a hole in her chest.</p>
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